


rivalry versus reality

by Chokingonholywater



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Squip, Enemies to Friends, M/M, will add more tags as the story develops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chokingonholywater/pseuds/Chokingonholywater
Summary: In those cheesy internet safety presentations, they usually make a point of saying that people aren't always who they say they are online, and Michael figures that's true. For example, sometimes your bitter rival from your favorite computer game ends up being a pretty cool dude in real life, once you get to know him. A cool dude who's also kinda cute. And who hasn't put it together yet that he knows you.The presentations never talked aboutthat.





	1. skipping school (and other ways to screw people over)

“What the hell, asshole!” Michael exclaimed, frowning. He heard a snicker come through his headphones in response, but it barely registered. His fingers flew on the controls, desperately trying to flit his way between the zombies surrounding him. He glared at his screen, zig zagging in the opposite direction of the door he’d _usually_ use to get out of the abandoned factory he was now trapped in, since that asshole blockaded the door behind him.

He somehow made it through the crowd of zombies that had accumulated at the door, making the split second decision to dip into the hall on right. He didn’t know exactly where he was going; he typically stayed to the main section of this building, since everyone knew the programmers changed the factory’s layout randomly. It was practically a death trap, since there was no way of mapping a safe path through the depths unless you’d already played the map that day.

Luckily, the hall Michael had picked was empty.

The dimly lit corridor was dirty, grimy shadows making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of him. The only sounds in the hall were his own footsteps and the occasion scream or drip. It was, essentially, the kind of hallway that you’d see in your nightmares.

He slowed down, inching cautiously down the hall. There were doors on either side of him, spaced out every so often. These made him particularly nervous, because zombies - and, sometimes, other players - were known to pop out randomly from doors like those.

Michael felt his shoulders tense as he strained to see the end of the hallway. He flicked his eyes to the corner of the screen, where he could view his stats. The bar that showed his HP was a slim slice of red - thanks to that asshole, he was practically dead.

He wouldn’t survive another attack, not with the added damage he’d sustained when he had to flee through the mass of zombies at the door.

Michael let out an annoyed huff as he continued to inch down the hall. He still couldn’t see the end, and he hated going this far into the unknown when he was practically out of HP and had not idea where he was going. He didn’t exactly have a choice, of course, since he wouldn't be able to leave through the door he’d run from for at least ten minutes, as the zombies slowly dispersed.

Speaking of zombies, Michael could hear a growl somewhere in the distance. It was faint, but it stood out against the monotony of the otherwise silent hall. It grew louder as Michael continued to inch forward, but it sounded as though it was coming from his left - probably from a room up ahead. His dirt instinct was to turn around, but that wouldn’t do anything for him except get him stuck where he’d started.

Fighting his survival instinct, he continued forward. The snarling grew louder as he crept down the hall, the moans of the undead growing more prevalent with each step.

Eventually, they grew so loud that Michael was tempted to turn back, even though it would lead him back to the mass of zombies he’d run from in the first place. He wasn’t sure that it could be worse than whatever was down this hallway - that kind of noise meant something _really_ big was waiting for him.

He continued to creep down the hall, but the cacophony overwhelmed him. It sounded like it was practically on top of him, probably in the door directly on his left. His instincts finally won out, and he decided to turn around, since the only thing that would make a sound that loud would be —

“Shit, a horde!” Michael yelped, jamming down on the buttons automatically. He sent his character sprinting forward, continuing the hall he’d been planning to leave. Zombies flooded out of the freshly open doorway and chased after him, the sound crashing over him like a tsunami. With the buffer of the door gone, all he could hear were the sounds of the undead all around him.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” Michael muttered, eyes wide. He held the sprint key down as hard as he could (everyone knows the harder you press a key, the more effective it is, right?) and continued into the darkness, pursued by a crowd of countless zombies. He couldn’t seem to gain any leeway, the horde somehow seeming to keep pace with him. He suddenly realized he could see the hazy end of the hallway trough the darkness and he felt a spark of hop, preparing to careen to the left or right as the options appeared - but they didn’t.

“Aw fuck,” Michael whined. “A dead end? Really? This shit blows!”

He whipped his headset off angrily and watched as the horde caught up with him. They closed in, and he watched, fuming, as his character on screen was devoured. The blood splattered “GAME OVER” that appeared on the screen moments later only served to make him more mad, and he shoved his chair away from the desk in disgust.

He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, relishing in the satisfying popping sensations throughout his neck and spine. Michael let his arms fall back to his sides with a sigh, rolling out his shoulders. He always got tense when he played - especially when he ended up playing with _him._

Michael didn’t know his real name, but his screen name was miah_is_here615, and he was a total dick.

See, Apocalypse of the Damn started out as a single or double player narrative game, and it was pretty much defunct until a few years ago, since it was more of a retro item. For some reason, though, the company decided to revamp the game and push it out as a multiplayer, online survival game. Michael was still partial to the original version, but playing it alone was only fun for so long, so he usually played the newer one.

Like the original game, the point of the online game was to clear levels. The difference was that you were trying to beat not only the zombies, but also other players - either by beating the level first, in the more structured mode, or by being the last man standing in infinite play mode.

Michael did a little bit of both, but he preferred the narrative levels of the original game to the new one, so he mostly played in infinite mode when he played online. That’s where he’d met Miah (saying miah_is_here615 was annoying, so he mentally referred to him just as Miah) two years ago.

It had been his freshman year of high school when SQUIP Inc. dropped the reimagined game out into the world, and Michael had immediately gotten his hands on it. After all, he’s been playing the original for years - of _course_ he was gonna get the new one. It had taken some getting used to at first, and Michael had spent about a week playing the handful of single player levels the game provided in order to get acquainted with the controls.

Before long, he was handling the new interface like a pro. He shaved a few seconds off of his completion rate each time he replayed he levels, eventually getting to the point where he flew through the levels consistently every time.

Then he’d switched to the online mode, and he’d been totally floored.

First of all, playing with other people was a totally new thing for him. It wasn’t exactly like he had a ton of friends lining up to sit in his basement and play video games with him, so he always played on single player mode. Seeing so many characters running around the screen, and knowing they were all controlled by other real people, was a weird phenomenon.

Then he’d been struck my the implications of this - quite literally, as another player came up behind him and shoved him as they ran past. He saw his health meter drop and let out a little “hey, man!”.

“Sucks to suck, dude!” came a clear reply through his headset.

Michael jumped, looking around his room. It was empty, of course, and he slapped a hand to his forehead stupidly. He’d forgotten that there was an active voice chat for online mode, which he’d apparently activated by speaking into the mic on his headphones.

Where there’d been only a haunting kind of background music before, now there was a loud clamor of voices flowing into Michael’s ears. Mostly, people insulted each other or tried to strategize, if they were attempting to team up for survival, but it was all new to Michael.

Unfortunately, as he adjusted to the existence of other players, they adjusted first, and before he knew it, someone had pushed him towards a rambling zombie as a diversion tactic. Michael watched dumbly as his character on screen died, blinking at the “GAME OVER” that appeared on the screen.

It had taken some serious adjustment, but after a few days of feverishly playing both the timed and infinite modes, Michael got the hang of it. His movements in the game became more efficient, his banter with other people in the voice chat more natural. It was really fun, actually, to not be alone. People were mostly pretty cool, and Michael could respect the really cutthroat ones even if he did get a little irked when they got him killed. For the most part, he loved the new community he’d become a part of.

And then there was Miah.

He’d shown up about a week after Michael’s first foray into the multiplayer landscape, confidently making his way through the same hospital map as Michael. He didn’t speak much, but the few times he did speak in the voice chat, it was only to say a terse word or tell someone off for getting in his way with a mumbled “screw you, jerk”.

Michael didn’t think much of him, moving through the map with the practice ease of someone who’d been there many times before. He headed further into the crumbling building, smashing a few zombie skulls as he headed towards the third floor.

It was a little known secret, still kept off of the bigger boards about the game. The programmers had decided to keep one of the original game’s hacks from the hospital level: a chute behind a cabinet on the east wing of the third floor of the hospital that would lead the player right to the outside world - practically sliding them right to the end of the level.

One of the perks of being such a fan of the original game was that Michael knew about things like that, stuff from the original game that they’d decided to keep in as a nice little way of paying homage. There were a few other places in the game where Michael had discovered these little throwbacks, like the one in the amusement park, where throwing a ball and hitting the dunk tank would reveal a small stash of items under the tank.

As Michael ascended to the third floor of the building and turned right, he heard the new kid cursing someone out again in voice chat. He couldn’t help but smile, remembering how hard it had been the first time he played multiplayer - and he’d already been an expert in the _original_ game! Most people came into the game blind, not even knowing there’d been a different version released ages ago.

“Hey, new kid,” Michael said, slicing the head off a zombie. There was no response, but Michael figured the kid just had his hands full.

“Miah, or whatever - yeah, you,” Michael continued, rolling his eyes at the small “me?” that he’d heard in his headphones. “Welcome to the game.”

There was still no reaction from Miah, but Michael wasn’t really bothered. He made his way down the hall, towards the room with the secret exit.

“Don’t worry if you’re not that good yet, you can get there,” he said, reaching the door and clicking to open it. “After all, you’re just a — wait, what.”

As Michael opened the door, he immediately realized that someone had already pushed the cabinet out of the way. He just caught a glimpse of someone slipping down the chute, but he didn’t recognize them.

“Just a newbie?” came a voice - Miah’s voice - through his headset. “Don’t be so sure, dude.”

Michael was dumbfounded; he’d never seen anyone else use the chute before. He stood for a few moments, blinking at the screen, before shaking himself out of his stupor and heading for the chute himself.

As he’d slid through the darkness, Miah’s voice had come through again, a light mocking tone shining through.

“Oh, and don’t worry if you can’t survive this level,” he cooed, “I’m sure you’ll get there!”

Michael hadn’t understood what he meant until he slid out of the chute — and directly into three zombies, waiting by the secret exit.

“Shit!” Michael yelled, stuck between the chute - which only worked one way - and tj zombies, which were already on top of him. He heard someone in the chat laugh.

“How’s that for a newbie?” Miah had asked, and Michael could practically hear the shit eating grin in his voice as Michael’s character was devoured onscreen, unable to move.

“Screw you,” Michael had replied angrily, watching his health dip lower.

He’d heard another quiet laugh, and then the screen cut to the “GAME OVER” he’d grown to hate.

Alright, so, Miah was obviously not a newbie. Judging by the stats Michael saw later, he’d actually gotten the fastest score on that level out of those playing that day - and on the other three levels he’d done before logging off.

So yeah, definitely no newbie.

After that, he and Miah had developed a rivalry like no other. When they both ended up online, they’d seek each other out just to sabotage the other, aiming to beat each other in every level and map. Things had only gotten more intense between them in the past year, since SQUIP Inc. implemented the leaderboard feature.

Speaking of, Michael grinned, remembering his late night last night. The leaderboards locked at six in the morning, so the rankings at that time were the final rankings for that week or month. Of course, he and Miah were almost always making the leaderboard and vying for a higher spot than the other. They both lived in New Jersey, so they could compete on the state and world level; usually, they were the best in New Jersey, falling somewhere in the lower area of the top world players. No matter what leaderboard it was, though, the kind of competition between the two of them always drove them both to crazy lengths in order to win.

Like last night, when Michael had stayed up until six in the morning to beat out Miah’s score and claim his spot as number on in New Jersey for the month.

He smiled as the page loaded, showing that he was in fact first on the board, right above miah_is_here615. He’d only beaten Jeremy by half a second, but it was enough. It was supremely satisfying to see that he’d won, especially since Miah was such a dick about it whenever he won.

After basking in the glory of his success for a few more moments, Michael clicked away and decided to see if Miah was online, so he could float about their placements. He clicked on Miah’s name, and saw that he was in fact online, playing through the high school map in infinite mode.

Michael clicked the button to play the same, and found himself dropped in the middle of a crumbling gymnasium. He headed for the doors, adjusting the volume of his headphones as he went. He could hear people yelling at each other and laughing, but no Miah.

Michael frowned, ghosting over Miah’s name in the pause menu, where it showed he was an active player. He returned to the game and continued through the building, heading for the secret safe room behind the chemistry lab that he knew Miah was aware of.

“Really? You’re gonna send them this way?” came an irritated voice through Michael’s headphones.

Michael perked up immediately. “Oh, hey Miah,” he said, grinning.

“I wasn’t talking to you, asshole,” came the mumbled reply. Michael almost laughed at how natural it felt. Aside from their rivalry in game, they didn’t get along well in the voice chat, either. Michael thought Miah was kinda rude and definitely bitter, and Miah though he was too cocky and condescending. The dislike between them was mutual and strong, having survived multiple years of barbs and competition.

“Nice going with the leaderboard this month - second place is pretty impressive,” Michael said.

He heard Miah scoff. “Yeah, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

Michael felt a grin spreading across his face - Miah didn’t know that he’d beaten him.

“Actually,” he drawled, savoring the moment, “I wouldn’t. You should look at the rankings, bud.”

There was a sharp inhale on the other end, and Michael could hear the heavy clicks as Miah navigated to the leaderboard. Any second now —

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Miah shrieked, his voice cracking. “But it’s - what the fuck, dude? How did you even _do_ that?”

Michael’s glee was palpable in his tone. “Sheer skill, asshole,” he grinned.

“But that’s not fair,” he whined, and Michael could practically hear the pout in his voice. “I stayed up until five in the morning to get that score, and —“

“And I,” Michael interrupted, “stayed up until six.” He heard Miah let out an annoyed huff and he couldn’t help but relish in how riled up Miah was getting. He’d hoped that it would happen but still - it was even better he’d expected.

“You’re full of shit, y'know that, M?”

Right - Miah didn’t know Michael’s name, either. His screen name was retro-m2, a reference to his affinity for all things retro and his double letter initials. He knew it was kinda stupid, but he'd been forced to sit through a lot of those stu;id internet saftey presentations as a kid and his family had always taught him to be cautious about who he talked to online. So, when Miah had asked his name, he’d just told him to call him “M”.

Really cool, right?

Yeah, Michael didn’t think so either. It was kinda too late to back out now, though, and besides, it wasn’t like they were really friends. If anything, they fell more towards the opposite end of the spectrum, so M worked just fine.

“Cranky because you’re second place, aren’t you?” Michael replied, laughing at the indignant noise Miah made.

“Don’t quote memes at me! And that - that’s not even funny,” he shot back halfheartedly. Michael was impressed he’d gotten the reference, but he knew Miah was just mad that he’d been beaten.

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, listening to the other conversations in the voice chat. People were, as usual, hurling insults at each other through their headsets; Michael heard several different voices yelling, seeking some form of retribution for whatever way another player had just screwed them over.

Several inspiring and clever jabs like “that was gay!” and “suck a dick!” were peppered into the chat, along with a few choice names that made Michael’s skin crawl.

As much as he liked video games, and Apocalypse of the Damned especially, there were certainly aspects of the culture surrounding said games that he could do without. As someone who was both Filipino and gay, there were definitely some insults that he’d rather people didn’t use.

For the most part, he tried not to get too riled up about it; he just blocked people who he heard saying stuff like that, and that was it. People would say stuff to him too, sometimes, without knowing that it was true. He tried not to let it get to him, but it did make him feel like shit knowing that so many people treated who he was as an insult or a joke.

As much as he didn’t like Miah, he could definitely say that Miah had never said anything like that, which was what let Michael enjoy their rivalry as he disliked the other boy. Miah was annoying sometimes, yeah, and a sore loser, and kinda an asshole, but those were normal things. Michael didn’t consider him a friend, obviously, but whatever kind of rivalry they had was one that Michael was into.

Miah’s voice popped back into the chat then, pulling Michael out of his stupor.

“How did you even stay up that late? Didn’t you have school?”

Michael rolled his eyes, although he knew Miah couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, man,” he replied, guiding his character through a dilapidated library on screen, “but gotta be honest, who cares? I just skipped it. It’s not like I’m gonna fail or anything.”

Miah made a choking noise. “You just - you skipped school to beat me? Really? That’s so stupid. And unfair!” he whined.

Michael rolled his eyes. Of course Miah was the kind of kid who never skipped school.

Michael, on the other hand, was a little less straight and narrow (no pun intended). If there was a day every so often he didn’t feel like going to school, or a day he got there and just couldn’t do it - yeah, he just didn’t. His moms really didn’t mind as long as he didn’t do it too often; they called them “mental health days”. Sometimes, he just skipped and got away with it. There really wasn’t any punishments for it, in Michael’s experience, except a little bit of catching up to do in classes.

“Yeah, well, that’s how it is sometimes on this bitch of an Earth, Miah,” Michael replied sagely, grinning at the sound of annoyance he heard from the other boy.

“You’ll get it next time!” Michael said in an overly cheery tone. “Unless, y’know, I commit the _very_ serious crime of skipping class again and beat you at the last minute, since I’m just a better player than you,” he added, singsonging.

Miah sputtered some kind of retort, but Michael was laughing to much to hear him. Eventually, he just mumbled “Fuck you, M,” before leaving the chat.

Michael watched Miah’s username change from on to offline, still grinning. His moms had been a little peeved when they’d found out he’d skipped school - he’d taken a legitimate mental health day the week before - but it was definitely worth it to get Miah all riled up. First place for the month was nothing to scoff at, either.

And besides, it wasn’t like there would be any consequences, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it felt good to flex my writing muscles again, whew! i know this entire chapter was setup but i promise things will pick up next chapter. in the meantime, feel free to check out my other bmc fics or find me on tumblr at choking-onholywater. 
> 
> please drop a comment if you liked the chapter or you have questions, it would mean a lot to me! Thanks!


	2. skipping school (and other ways to screw yourself over)

On Monday morning, Michael woke up the same way he always did: to the of his alarm blaring the dungeon theme from the original Donkey Kong game. What could he say? Nothing like the sound of blasting, incredibly robotic chords to get you out of bed in the morning. 

After turning off his alarm, Michael let out a yawn, staring up at his barren ceiling. He traced the lone crack with his eyes, basking in the heat of his bed for a few more moments before forcing himself to get up. 

The cold air caused his skin to erupt into goosebumps, a slight shiver running down his spine as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up. He stretched languidly, pulling his arms up over his head and cracking his neck. He blinked his eyes slowly and yawned again, then took a deep breath. 

He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, but he was already on thin ice with his moms from last Friday’s “mental health day”, so he knew he had to get moving. 

Rubbing his eyes, Michael padded over to his dresser and rifled through it for a clean pair of jeans and boxers. He wandered over to his closet next, grabbing a shirt at random before heading towards his bathroom. 

He brushed his teeth as he waited for the shower to heat up, staring at his own reflection in the mirror through an exhausted haze. When he realized with a start that the mirror had totally steamed up, he rinsed out his mouth and pulled off his slept in clothes, stepping into the shower. 

Michael let out a small sigh as he stepped under the stream of water, relishing in the pleasant heat. He stood there for a few minutes with his eyes closed, just waking up and enjoying the feeling of the water running down his body.

Knowing that he had to go to school, he opened his eyes after a while and yawned again, reaching for his shampoo. It didn’t take long to wash his hair, and he moved through the motions without thinking about much of anything. 

As he grabbed his soap, he suddenly remembered that he’d beaten Miah for the month’s rankings. He couldn’t help but grin a little as a washed up, reminded of how irritated the other boy had been when he learned what Michael had done. It was always incredibly satisfying to mess with Miah; not only was a worthy rival, but he was also a sore loser, and kinda an asshole. Michael never really felt bad about screwing with him, since Miah did the same (or worse) at every chance he got. 

There’s just something really, really fulfilling about that kind of friendly, mutual loathing - as much as that seemed like an oxymoron. 

Michael finished rinsing the suds from his body and turned off the water, opening the sliding glass door and stepping onto the bath mat. Goosebumps appeared on his skin almost immediately as he moved from the hot shower to the crisp basement air. He shivered as a little rivulet of water slipped down his back, and he grabbed his towel as quickly as he could. 

Michael rubbed his forearm against the mirror as he dried himself off, exposing a crystalline patch of his reflection. He got dressed quickly, then toweled his hair to wick away the extra water that clung to it. His hair was a mess of crazy angles and unruly strands when he pulled the towel away, so he ran a hand through it as he looked in the clear patch of the mirror. 

His hair, thankfully, settled down as he dragged his fingers through it. He appraised his reflection, searching his features for something that he couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t like he cared that much about what he looked like, especially for just another day at school, but sometimes he felt like there was something just kind of off about his features. He didn’t think he was ugly, exactly, but somewhere between his perpetually messy hair and his uneven smile, he just felt like something wasn’t right. 

Michael sighed, leaning away from his reflection. It wasn’t really something that bothered him, but it wasn’t a thought he could totally ignore, either. It didn’t help that he was kind of an outcast at school, but whether that was because of his rainbow pride patch, his Filipino features, or his affinity for wearing a large pair of headphones all day wasn’t really clear. 

He shrugged off the thoughts, hanging up his towel. He only had a year and a half left, and then he was out for good. College was the light at the end of the tunnel, where Michael hoped he could finally find his people and be cool the way he was. 

He couldn’t get away from Middleborough, too, and all the people in it - from Rich, whose favorite hobby was mocking Michael in the halls - from Chloe, who laughed and whispered to Brooke whenever he passed by - from Jenna, who’d practically outed him in freshman year by starting the rumor that he was gay before he’d even come out to his family - from everyone. He didn’t really have any friends, besides the few he’d made online, and they could only do so much when he was hiding in the bathroom because Rich had singled him out during lunch again for sitting alone. 

Michael sighed, grabbing his hoodie from the back of his chair and yanking it over his head. It didn’t do any good to dwell on it, since he knew he would never be popular. It’s not like he really wanted that, anyways; all the popular kids were assholes. 

Deciding that it was too early for an identity crisis, Michael grabbed his headphones and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He headed upstairs, stopping to grab a banana before he shoved his feet into his sneakers and walked out the door.

He slid into the driver’s seat of his P.T. Cruiser, syncing up his phone to the Bluetooth speaker he’d paid to have installed in his car. Michael put his “current jams” playlist on shuffle and started the car, pulling out of the driveway. 

The sun was creeping slowly into the sky, and Michael found himself appreciating the colors along the horizon as he drove. He tapped his fingers absentmindedly along to the music as he made his way to school. 

After another ten minutes of peaceful nothing, Michael turned into the parking lot of Middleborough High School and pulled into his parking spot in the north lot. He stared down the beige brick building in front of him, mentally preparing himself to walk in and deal with whatever was in store for him today. Probably the same old stuff as always - boring classes interrupted only by a lonely lunch period and the inevitable interaction he’d have with the popular kids at some point in his day. 

Yeah, just another terrific day at Middleborough High School.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Michael sighed and turned off the car. He sat in silence for a moment, not wanting to go inside. He forced himself to grab the keys from the ignition and shove them into his back pocket, and then to open the door step out onto the pavement. He settled his headphones over his ears and started his music up again, feeling the weight of his nerves ease a bit as he familiar rhythm flowed through the speakers. 

Michael reached back into his car for his backpack, then shut and locked the door behind him. As always, the finality of the gesture made him wish he didn’t have to go in at all, but he hiked his bag up on his shoulders and pulled his hood over his headphones, effectively blocking out the world. 

He joined the trickle of students flowing into the building, just another face in the crowd of teenagers. He walked through the halls with his eyes down, jamming out to his music in the rhythm of his step and the taping of his fingers against the straps of his backpack. His first class of the day was graphic design, which was pretty relaxed. He liked to get there early so he could sit and chill out, which was what he planned to do that morning. Actually, he was pretty far ahead in the class, so he was hoping he’d be able to just listen to his music and relax for the whole period.

Fate, unfortunately, had other plans.

“Oh, Michael!” his teacher said, waving him towards his desk. 

“What’s up?” Michael asked, pulling off his headphones and walking towards his teacher. He wasn’t nervous - it was probably just something about his last project, or a question about something his teacher was working on. 

“This was in my mailbox this morning,” he said, handing Michael a folded blue piece of paper. Michael went to grab it, a knot of dread forming in his gut, but his teacher pulled it away at the last second and fixed Michael with a concerned look. 

“Is everything alright, Michael? You’ve missed a few classes recently, which is what I’m assuming this,” he said, waving the paper In his hand, “is about.” 

Michael almost rolled his eyes, but he could feel the pit in his stomach growing. He really had been missing more days than he realized, now that he thought about it. Shit, maybe there would actually be consequences this time.

“Uh, no,” Michael mumbled, staring at the blue paper. “I mean - yeah, I’m fine. Just needed to take some days off for personal stuff, y’know?” 

That personal stuff included playing video games and smoking, which Michael now regretted skipping school for, but he wasn’t gonna tell his teacher that. 

“Well, if you ever need to talk...” his teacher trailed off, giving Michael a helpless kind of smile. Michael appreciated the gesture, but there was nothing to tell, so he just gave a halfhearted grin and grabbed the paper, moving a few feet away from the desk to open it. 

Just as he’d suspected, it was a note telling him that he had to report to the principal’s office. Michael felt his gut sink as he read the note a second time, but it was pretty basic, just telling him to go before or during first period and which room to report to.

He looked up from the note to find his teacher’s concerned eyes still on him. Michael gestured weakly to the paper and then the door to ask if he could go, and his teacher nodded, giving him a tentative thumbs up. 

Michael sighed as he pulled the door open, stuffing the blue paper into his hoodie pocket. He let the door shut behind him as he pulled his headphones back on, trying to calm his nerves with music. He had no idea what he was waking into, and that more than anything made his stomach fill up with dread.

He wasn’t sure what the consequences even were for skipping class. Was this just for last Friday, or was it a collective punishment? Could he just get his moms to write a note saying it was a mental health day? If it was for all the days he’d skipped recently - Michael paled, suddenly realizing just how many classes he’d skipped. This could be really, really bad. 

He took a deep breath and turned his music up, fighting the tide of students as he made his way to the office. The halls were starting to get crowded now, since the first bell would be ringing soon. 

Michael turned left at the end of the hall and felt his shoulders tense out of habit. This was the hallway where the popular kids gathered, since their lockers were all grouped together. He pretty much avoided it at all costs, since he almost never escaped unscathed when so many of them were around. Unfortunately, he’d been too wrapped up in his nervousness over the note to pay much attention to where he was going, and whether he wanted to be going there. 

Figuring that it would be worse to turn around and leave the hall at this point, Michael squared his shoulders and moved forward down the hall. He lifted his eyes from the ground briefly, spotting Chloe’s hair and Brooke’s bright yellow cardigan before quickly settling his gaze downward. He breathed in deeply, trying to convince himself that things would be fine. The hall was fairly crowded, so the odds that he could slip by unnoticed were pretty good, right? In fact, Michael felt suddenly confident that he’d be able to —

“— he’s alone again, no surprise there.”

Of course he wouldn’t get through unscathed. Fate really just had it out for him today, why would his luck change now? 

“He thinks it’s because of his gay patch but like, it’s just the whole thing. The lazy stoner look is so out,” she giggled mirthlessly, not bothering to lower her voice. Brooke laughed too, and Michael turned his headphones up, pretending he couldn’t hear them. 

He sped up as she continued to ridicule him, the sound of her and Brooke’s laughter fighting its way through his music. He hunched his shoulders as he moved away from them, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly.

Michael breathed a small sigh of relief as he rounded the corner away from them, glad to be away from their fake nice voices and cruel eyes. The relief was short lived, however, as he remembered why he was walking down the hall in the first place.

He stopped on the side of the mostly empty hall, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew it was unrealistic, but a part of him hoped the paper would be gone. 

He thrust a hand into his hoodie pocket and let out a mumbled “fuck” as he felt the paper. He opened his eyes, feeling a slight wave of nausea pass over him as he tugged the paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it, legs prickling with anxiety, and examined the text again. The only thing worse that just going to the office would be showing up at he wrong time - but no, it definitely said he should go now. 

Michael took a shaky breath, willing his feet to move again. They did, and he made his way towards the office door at the end of the hall. 

He stopped outside, uncertain what the procedure was for reporting to a summons like this. After a few awkward moments of standing by the door, he reached a hand out and turned the knob, letting himself in. 

There was a long desk in front of him with two women sitting at it, one on the phone and one typing on her computer. Michael shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he let the door swing gently closed behind him. It wasn’t until it clicked into place with a loud click that the receptionist who wasn’t on the phone looked up at him.

She beckoned him over with a gentle smile.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” she asked kindly.

“Uh,” Michael mumbled. “This?” he said lamely, holding up his blue paper. 

She took it gently from his hands on scanned her eyes over it, nodding slightly, then handed it back. 

“You’ll be going into this room right here,” she said, gesturing to the closed door on her right. “He’s meeting with someone right now, but if you’d like to sit down and wait, feel free.” She pointed to a small row of black plastic chairs against the wall and Michael nodded his acknowledgement, heading for the chairs. 

He plopped down in one of the chair and began tapping his fingers nervously against the chair, letting his mind wander.

He normally wouldn’t be so nervous - hadn’t been in a little while - but something about the uncertainty of the whole situation was his making him uneasy. It was just one of those days, apparently, where he felt a little bit uncomfortable in his own skin and he couldn’t quite settle down. 

After a few more minutes of silence that stretched on for far longer than Michael would have liked, the door on his left opened. A boy he didn’t recognize walked out, looking angry, which didn’t bode well for Michael. 

Speaking of, he saw Principal Vizzini’s appear in the doorway, dressed in a crisp dress shirt and a blazer. He made eye contact with Michael and said, “Michael?”.

When Michael nodded, he said “Please, come in,” and held the door open a bit farther for Michael to enter. Michael stood up, heart beating a little bit faster than usual, and walked through the door. 

He stood just inside he doorway of the office, looking around. There were a few bookshelves full of books, a couple picture frames, and a large oak desk. There was a chair on either side, one cushy looking chair behind it and a skimpy black plastic chair in front. Principal Vizzini gestured to the latter for Michael to sit in as he sat down in the former. 

Michael sat down reluctantly, sliding his headphones down to rest on his neck. 

“So, Michael Mell, correct?” Principal Vizzini said, folding his hands on the desk in front of him.

Michael nodded, but didn’t know if that was acceptable, so he added a half hearted “Yes, sir.”

The Principal nodded then opened a Manila folder that was sitting on his desk and leafed through the papers inside.

“Mister Mell, it appears that you’ve missed quite a few classes this semester,” he began, still leading through the folder. “Are you aware of our attendance policy?” he asked, looking at Michael over the rim of his glasses. 

Michael swallowed thickly, then said “I, uh - not exactly, no.” 

Principal Vizzini closed the folder and put it down, folding his hands again on top of it. He fixed Michael with a serious look before explaining. 

“The typical policy is that, after a student misses four classes with no viable excuse, a detention is issued. Do you know how many classes you’ve missed this semester?”

Michael shook his head no, but tried to run through a mental tally in the short silence before Principal Vizzini spoke again; it was many more than four. 

“Eleven, Mister Mell. Eleven. You managed to slip quite a few absences past us, and it wasn’t until one of your teachers brought you absence to our attention that we looked into your attendance in other classes. Can you imagine what we found?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. 

Before Michael could answer, he continued on his own. “You’ve been skipping classes on a weekly basis, being absent from both study halls and core classes. The absences you’ve accumulated largely slipped our notice because a few of your teachers seemed to be under the impression that you had changed your study hall location to the music suite, which we found odd, since you’re not in any music classes. Would you like to explain how that misunderstanding occurred?”

Michael blinked, nervously shaking his leg. He _had _been skipping a lot of classes; sometimes just a study hall or a rogue English class, but sometimes he’d ditch entire days. He didn’t have a good explanation for it, so he just sat in silence, staring at the desk in front of him.__

__“No answers? Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter in the long run, since we need to take action regardless of the reason.”_ _

__Michael breathed in sharply, tensing his shoulders to prepare for the blow of whatever punishment was about to be doled out. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, weighing heavily on Michael’s shoulders._ _

__“This kind of behavior is grounds for a week long suspension,” Principal Vizzini said finally, and Michael’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head._ _

__“What?!” he yelped, sitting up. “Are you kidding me?”_ _

__Principal Vizzini fixed him with what Michael  
assumed was meant to be a sympathetic look, but Michael jumped in again before he could speak. _ _

__“Isn’t there any other way? My moms will be furious - I can do detentions for a week or a paper on responsibility or something, I was just having a hard time and I needed some space,” Michael rambled, desperately trying to change his fate. “I probably should’ve just talked to someone and dealt with my, uh, my problems instead of skipping class,” he continued,” but please, isn’t there anything else I could do?” He winced at his own whiny tone, knowing that he’d totally just spewed a rant for no reason._ _

__Principal Vizzini let out a long sigh and picked up the folder again, leafing through._ _

__“Well,” he muttered, flipping through the pages. Michael waited with baited breath for him to maybe, just maybe, relent on the punishment he’d been given. He tried not to hope for too much, since his luck had been so bad that day, but he couldn’t help it._ _

__To his surprise, the Principal gave him a small smile, and said, “Okay, Michael. According to all of your teachers and your past records, you’re a good kid. This is the first time you’ve had an issue with attendance, so let’s chalk it up to a bad stretch, yeah?”_ _

__Michael nodded vigorously._ _

__“Alright, then, here’s the deal. We’re getting a new student tomorrow, and our Student Union has been stretched thin trying to accommodate him. If you agree to let him shadow you for a few days as he gets a feel for the school and we set up his schedule, and you have no more than one unexcused absence for the remainder of the semester, we can call it even. How does that sound?”_ _

__“That sounds perfect,” Michael said emphatically, nodding. “Thank you so much, I promise I’ll get myself sorted out, no more attendance issues, I promise.”_ _

__Principal Vizzini smiled at him. “Be here thirty minutes before the first bell tomorrow to meet the new student and gather all the paperwork for the shadowing process,” he said as he stood up, extending a hand to Michael for him to shake._ _

__Michael stood up too and grabbed his hand, thanking him again as he shook it. He turned and left the office after that, feeling much lighter than he had walking in. The principal was actually pretty cool, and Michael was extremely grateful that he hadn’t been suspended._ _

__He walked back to his graphic design class and spent the rest of the class bopping softly to some of his favorite upbeat tunes, feeling like his day had turned around._ _

__The rest of his classes passed with no excitement and he got into his car at the end of the day feeling almost good. The day had started out pretty crappy, but it had ended up okay. He’d gotten caught for skipping class, but he hadn’t been suspended. He had to show the new kid around, but Michael figured he could probably just ignore the new kid like he did with everyone else. It would be the most accurate experience of Middleborough he could give whoever this new student was, anyways._ _

__Michael rolled his eyes as he thought about it; whoever this kid was, they were gonna be screwed. Michael had lived in Middleborough his whole life, and he didn’t have a single friend to speak of. This new kid wouldn’t stand a chance, and Michael wasn’t about to go out of his way to try to make him feel welcome._ _

__Still, he couldn’t help but sent out a silent wish to the universe that the kid wouldn’t have it too bad as he pulled out on the road to go home._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s chapter two, more buildup of course because I always over-write haha. Thanks for all your support on chapter one, it means the world. The same support on this chapter would be greatly appreciated, it motivates me to write faster! (Anybody catch the reference to another one of my BMC fics in this chapter?) 
> 
> Thanks for reading, until next time!!


	3. change of plans

Michael inched carefully down the hallway, trying his best to silence his footfalls. Even his breathing seemed to echo against the walls, crashing back over him in a tumultuous racket. He was at school, creeping down the hall towards the office. 

The building was dark and empty, almost eerily so. Michael scanned the length of the hall, as far as he could see, but most of the lights were out, or broken. He’d never noticed that it could get so dark - probably because he was usually only at school during the day. 

Michael tried to ignore how fundamentally wrong it was to be at school when it was still dark outside as he moved through the halls. He kept one hand pressed to the cold metal of the lockers, the other held tensely in front of him, in case he was about to run into anything. He’d been using his phone’s flashlight for a while, but he’d decided to save his battery just in case there was some kind of emergency. 

Not that he was actually expecting an emergency, since this was just school. Just his normal, everyday school, were the worst thing that happened to him was getting called gay in the halls. Just a totally normal school, with normal lockers and normal tile floors and —

Okay, whatever that sound was, it most definitely was not normal. 

Michael stood still, his heart beginning to beat faster. He strained against the darkness, trying to pick out any traces of the sound. It had sounded almost like a groan, or maybe a breathy exhale? It was kind of hard for Michael to recall, since his mind was going a mile a minute. He closed his eyes, as though that would help him hear better, but then opened them almost immediately as his fear of not knowing what was around him returned full force. 

A moment later, he heard it again: that aching, groaning sound he’d heard before, coming from somewhere down the hall in front of him. He wondered if it was maybe just the wind, or work being done somewhere else in the school. 

He really, really hoped it was one of those things.

Doing his best to convince himself it was (“Come on, Michael, pull yourself together! What else could it be?”), he began moving down the hallway again. He knew he had to be getting close to the office. He’d get there, and then things would be fine. He was sure of it. 

He started humming quietly to himself to drown out the strange noise as he moved, ignoring the shadows that seemed to creep around the edges of his eyesight. He kept up a whispered conversation with himself, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. 

This was a simple trip, through halls he’d walked hundreds of times before. There was no need to be nervous, he reasoned with himself. 

Unless, of course, there was, his mind shot back, relentlessly countering every placating argument he made. 

By the time he got to the office door, he realized that everything had gone silent. There were no more weird groaning noises, no more skittering scratches just outside his field of vision; he’d even stopped humming without meaning to. The silence was almost worse than the sound, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of that dark hall.

He could see light slipping out under the door inside the office, and he let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. Whatever weird things were lurking in the shadows - probably nothing, really - he’d be inside a room with actual lights soon, with actual people. Then everything would be fine.

He lifted his right hand and moved towards the door knob. It was icy cold to his touch, the first indication that something wasn’t right. He ignored it, chalking it up to the fact that no one had touched the knob in a while, and curled his fingers around it. He gave it a turn and pushed the door open, stepping into the light of the office.

As soon as he did, he realized that something was wrong. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

The groaning sound was back, deafeningly loud, so much more than before. The light he’d seen from outside was nowhere to be found. Instead, the office was dark, illuminated only by the inorganic, blue glow of a computer screen. The long desk was crumbling, the chairs overturned and broken. There was some sort of black, oozing tendril snaking across the room, draping itself down from the ceiling down to the floor and across the chairs and the desk and everything else in the room. 

Michael’s eyes were wide as he surveyed the room. There was literally no way this was happening, whatever the hell this was. 

He blinked hard, hoping to dispel whatever horrible hallucination he was having. When he opened his eyes again, everything was just as it had been - except no, it wasn’t. The tendrils had moved slightly, inching their way up the toppled chairs and across the desk, slithering towards Michael. 

He took a tentative step backwards, his breathing becoming labored. The sound was all around him, seeming to come from the walls, or maybe the tendrils themselves. He had no idea what to do, what to think. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting when he’d shown up to school early to meet the new kid. 

He took another step backwards, getting ready to turn and run down the hall. It had been creepy out there, but this - this was something else. Michael shook his head in horrified disbelief and spun around, hurtling away from the corrupted office. 

Where there’d been an open doorway just moments ago, Michael now threw his full weight into some kind of barrier. It was soft and sticky, and he couldn’t help but yelp as he ran into it.

Confused, he backed up. He was sure that’s where he’d come in - he could still see the open door hanging open from where he’d walked through, but there was no opening. Just a doorframe and hinges that melted into the same grayish, rotting mass that the tendrils were coming from. 

Michael looked around feverishly, sure that there must be an explanation, but there was none to be found. The way he’d entered had disappeared, and now there was no way out of the office. 

His heart began to pound, a thunderous beating against the inside of his chest. The combination of the tortured, terrifying groaning coming from the dark mass around him and his own pounding heart was enough to make Michael feel sick. He placed a hand on his chest, trying to steady his breathing. He felt sure that his heart was going to break straight through his ribs and explode into the wall in front of him; he could hardly catch his breath. 

He clutched his hoodie, bunching up the fabric on his chest as he took shallow breaths. He took another step away from what had once been the door, scanning the room for any means of escape. 

There were none. No windows, no doors, nothing left undevoured by the slowly encroaching black mass, the source of the horrible sounds he’d heard from all the way down the hall. He had no idea what could make a noise like that - oh god, it was all around him - and he had no desire to find out. 

Michael was panicking now, sweat dripping down his back under his hoodie, blood rushing through his ears, heart beating so fast he could practically feel it vibrating in his ribs. He took a step backwards, staring at what had once been the only entrance into the room. 

He had nowhere to escape, nowhere to run to. 

Another step back.

He didn’t understand what was happening, Jesus Christ what was happening? He was going to die here, that’s what was happening. This whole room was going to be devoured by whatever had sealed the door behind him, and he was gonna be stuck in the middle, heart pounding out of his chest, scrambling for air until there was no more air and no heartbeats left.

He went to take another step backwards, but something caught his foot. 

He screamed as he fell, he own fear mingling with the pained noises around him, and he squeezed his eyes closed to brace for impact. He thudded to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through his shoulder. 

Michael gasped, his eyes flying open. His senses felt fried, and the sudden light didn’t help. He noticed that the crushing noise was gone, too, and so was the entire dark mass that had been consuming the office. 

The office at school, where he no longer was, of course, because he’d been dreaming. 

Michael sighed and flopped back down into bed, sheets sticking to his sweat covered body. He closed his eyes, feeling exhausted from the dreams. His heart was still beating a little fast and he took long, deliberate breaths in an effort to steady it. 

He’d been having those kinds of dreams lately, where he was at school and there was just something wrong. If he wanted to really look into it, he’d probably say that they stemmed from his loneliness and anxiety whenever he was at school surrounded by his peers, but he was content just to let them be weird nightmares. 

Michael finally got his heart back down to a normal rhythm when suddenly, his eyes flew open. 

“Shit!” 

It was quarter to seven, only fifteen minutes before he was supposed to be at school to meet with Principal Vizzini and the new kid.

The glowing red numbers on his clock seemed to be laughing at him as he threw off his blankets and scrambled out of bed, one foot getting caught in the sheets in his haste. He narrowly avoided tumbling to the ground, muttering a colorful array of profanity as he tugged his foot free. 

He stumbled towards the bathroom to splash some water on his face and brush his teeth, hurrying through the motions. He ran a hand through his hair without stopping to look at his reflection, instead running back into his bedroom. Michael grabbed a pair of jeans off of the floor and yanked them on, hopping to pull them up as he walked across the room to grab a shirt from the closet. Selecting a tee at random and slipping it on, he yanked his backpack off the floor and his keys from off of his desk.

As he sped towards the stairs, he slowed for a moment to grab his hoodie off the back of the chair. He let out a huff as he took the stairs two at a time, realizing he’d have to put his hoodie on as he walked into school, since his bag was already on his shoulders. 

He slid to a stop by his front door, jammed his feet into his sneakers, and flung open the door. Michael practically leapt out of the doorway, stumbling on the edge of the concrete steps. He landed with a thud, letting out a small huff as he bounded towards his car. 

After missing several times, Michael eventually got the door unlocked and hopped in, throwing his bag and his hoodie into the passenger’s seat. He jammed the keys into the ignition and whipped his seat belt on, accidentally locking the mechanism. 

“Come on,” he whined, releasing the strap. As soon as he heard it snap back into place he grabbed it again and forced himself to pull it slower, successfully buckling himself in. 

He put his car in reverse and sped out of the driveway, not even bothering to put on his music. 

Michael zoomed down the streets, definitely going a little faster than he should’ve been. He had five minutes to make what was usually an eight minute drive, and he couldn’t help but ignore the speed limit. 

He tapped his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as he drove, looking at the clock every few seconds even though he knew what it was going to say. 

“Fuck, I can’t afford to me late, like, I seriously don’t want moms to find out about this, shit, shit, shit!” he mumbled, frowning. He pushed down a little harder on the gas, moving swiftly. The good thing about going to school early was that there was much less traffic than usual, so he barely had to stop at all. 

He flew past the 7-11 where he sometimes went during lunch, past the library, past the park. He nervously checked the time - one minute until he was supposed to be at school. 

His chest felt tight with nerves, but then he saw the street lights in the school parking, and the tension eased. He let out a long breath, turning into the driveway of the school. 

He swung into the lot and parked in his spot, yanking his backpack and hoodie off the seat next to him before hopping out of the car. He hastily locked the door behind him, doing an awkward half jog, half walk towards the entrance of the school.

He reached the front door and suddenly remembered his dream. He paused for a moment, a put in his stomach as he recalled the terror he’d woken up from, but flung the door open with a start after remembering his time crunch. 

Michael jogged towards the office, simultaneously ignoring the sense of deja vu and reassuring himself that there were no monsters or weird, black coils about to appear in the school. The lights were on, which made the whole thing easier to stomach. He decided not to look back, anyways, just in case there was something there - though he told himself it was just because he was in a rush.

After checking that the hall was empty, Michael slid his bag down the hall to free up his hands. It hit the wall at the opposite end with a soft thump that echoed slightly in the empty hall. 

Keeping up the half jogging pace towards his bag, Michael unfolded his hoodie from where it had been scrunched up under his arm. He shoved it over his head unceremoniously, stuffing his arms through the sleeves. His glasses were pressed just a bit too tightly against the bridge of his nose from forcing his hoodie over them, so he adjusted the frames with one hand while scooping down to snatch his backpack off the ground with the other. 

Turning the corner, he practically slid to a stop in front of the office. He was panting slightly from the rush of getting to school - he checked his phone - only one minute late after waking up in such a panic. Pausing outside the door for a moment, Michael resituated his headphones around his neck so they weren’t stuck under his hoodie and readjusted the straps of his backpack. 

Then he pushed open the door, and it was just like in his dream. 

Well, okay. No, it wasn’t - there were no upended chairs, no broken desks, no strange shadows. He was, however, momentarily impressed with how accurately his mind had been able to recreate (and subsequently destroy) the office reception area. 

Shrugging off the creepy residue from his dream, Michael turned toward Principal Vizzini’s door. It, too, was just like in his dream, with a small sliver of light spilling out from under the door.

Thankfully, when Michael opened the door, the office was perfectly in tact; no creepy black masses, just Principal Vizzini sitting at his desk, waiting. 

He looked up as Michael closed the door behind him and smiled pleasantly. He gestured for Michael to sit down, and Michael did. 

“Ah, Michael, good morning. Glad to see you didn’t forget about our little meeting,” he quipped genially. 

Michael stared blankly back at him, not quite awake yet. He had no idea how the man across from him had so much energy this early in the morning. Michael didn’t strain himself to reply, instead letting his features settle into a vaguely unhappy, empty expression. 

Yeah, he was happy that he wasn’t getting suspension, but he didn’t have to be happy about his alternate punishment, either. 

Principal Vizzini seemed unbothered by Michael’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. 

“Anyways, our new student will be arriving shortly. He’s transferring from a private school a few districts over - Westbury, I think, or maybe Wesenburg?” He shuffled around some papers on his desk before finding the one that satisfied him. 

“Oh, no! It’s called Westerburg,” he exclaimed, gesturing with the paper in his hands. “I’ve heard that it’s quite a nice school, so we’d better make a good first impression of our own fine establishment, right Mister Mell?”

Michael restrained himself from rolling his eyes, instead settling for a muted “mhm”. 

“Terrific. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job showing him around,” he added. “If there’s any serious problems, though, you should know that we will have to reconsider the severity of the punishment for all of your unfortunate absences.”

Michael winced at the slightly threatening note in his voice and swallowed thickly. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. 

The principal nodded and smiled again, apparently pleased with Michael’s less than enthusiastic reply. 

“The new student should be here any minute,” Principal Vizzini intoned, glancing at the clock on the wall.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. 

“Ah, that must be him!” Principal Vizzini stood up, making his way around the desk. 

Michael knew he should probably stand up, but he was feeling quite bitter about the fact that he was about to be saddled with whatever weird private school kid walked through that door. He jammed his hands into his hoodie pockets, brooding. He didn’t want anything to do with him, or anybody else at the school, and he definitely didn’t want to have to try to introduce this kid to people. He was already planning how to ditch the kid about to walk through the door without getting caught.

Speaking of the door, Michael heard it open behind him. Principal Vizzini welcomed the stranger to their school and made some kind of small talk about being awake and finding the place alright. Michael couldn’t hear whether or not the new kid replied.

“And here,” Principal Vizzini said, placing a meaningful stress on the second word that was clearly aimed at Michael, who was still seated, “is one of our students, who’ll be showing you around. This is—“

“Michael,” he interrupted, annoyance evident in his voice. He stood up with a sigh and yanked one hand out of his hoodie pocket.

“Welcome to our school, or whatever,” he continued. He rolled his eyes as he turned around, extending the hand to the new kid to shake. 

The hand that grabbed his was cold and slender. Michael pulled his eyes away from the wall and looked at the boy who was shaking his hand, and paused. 

Holy shit.

This kid was gorgeous. 

He had the most crystalline blue Michael had ever seen, which were currently pointed at the ground. He had soft brown curls the tumbled over his forehead and a slender frame, about the same height as Michael. 

He was wearing a loose blue cardigan with a striped shirt and worn converse. Michael could respect that, as he had a similar pair at home.

“Yeah, uh, I’m Michael,” Michael said, then mentally kicked himself. He’s already been introduced, what kind of idiot would this kid think he was now? 

But the boy didn’t laugh, or react as though he’s noticed the double introduction at all. His eyes flicked straight past Michael and over his shoulder, refusing to make contact. 

“Jeremy,” he mumbled, and Michael smiled. 

“Sick,” he answered, without thinking. 

Suddenly, Michael because aware of several things: firstly, that no one said sick anymore. He mentally kicked himself again, knowing he’d replay that mistake over and over the next time his brain decided to self combust. 

The second thing he noticed was that he’d been shaking the new kid’s - Jeremy’s, he silently corrected himself - hand for far too long. He let go immediately, wiping his hand on his hoodie.

Which brought him to the third thing: he looked like a mess. He was meeting an incredibly cute boy, and he hadn’t even smoothed his hair down after he’d pulled his hoodie on over it. He tried to subtly run a hand through it, but he just felt even more awkward, so he stopped halfway and let the hand drop back to his side. 

Jeremy still refused to make eye contact, staring at anything.but Michael. Michael could feel the silence growing awkward, but he didn’t know what to do. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to know, because it was at that moment that Principal Vizzini decided to step in. 

“Michael here is a junior too, so you’ll be shadowing him for a few days while you decide what classes you’d like to take and we handle scheduling,” he explained, moving back towards his desk chair. 

Jeremy finally glanced at Michael, his blue eyes making contact for just a second before he looked away again.

“Anyways,” Principal Vizzini continued, “id you boys would like to sit down, we can talk about how all this is gonna work, and then I can send you on your way.” He gestured to the two black plastic chair opposite his desk. 

Jeremy moved quickly towards one of the chairs and sat down, bouncing his leg immediately. Michael took the other chair, trying desperately to stay still and not to copy Jeremy’s tick. 

As Principal Vizzini talked about the school’s various policies and rules, as well as other specifics which only pertained to Jeremy, Michael tuned him out. He had stuffed his hands back into his pocket so that he could tap his finger against his thumb discreetly, like he usually did when he was too nervous - or too aware of his unimpressive first impression - to fidget visibly. 

Still, as he tapped out a steady rhythm on his fingers, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Jeremy out the corner of his eye. The other boy was listening intently to Principal Vizzini, a look of concentration displayed on his features. He leg continued to jiggle and his shoulders were hunched, and Michael could tell he was nervous. 

Michael didn’t really blame him - switching schools part way through junior year didn’t sound like a walk in the park. 

Michael was glad that Jeremy wouldn’t have to go in totally alone though, because he had Michael now. 

The thought took Michael by surprise for a moment and he blinked. He’d definitely been planning on ditching the kid, but maybe there needed to be a change of plans, now that he’d seen him - well, not just that he’d seen him, obviously, he meant now that he’d seen how nervous he is, yeah —

Michael mentally rattled off several excuses to himself, feeling his tapping speed up. He was definitely not just in this because the kid was cute, Michael had to do it to avoid getting suspended, and no one deserved to have to go into something like this alone, right? Michael was just being a decent person, just a helpful student. 

Yeah, that’s it.

Still, though — the kid was undeniably cute. Michael stole another quick glance out of the corner of his eye, admiring the lone brown curl that wrapped around the back of Jeremy’s ear. 

Yep. Cute.

Michael felt a bit of heat in his face and snapped back to reality, deciding that he should stop staring creepily at the new kid and try to pay attention to whatever the principal was saying.

It seemed like he’d tuned in just at the end of whatever spiel was being given, and a quick glance at the clock informed him that he’d been in his own head for ten minutes. Fantastic. 

“Anyways, that’s about all I had here for you, Jeremy,” Principal Vizzini said, rapping his knuckles on the desk lightly. Jeremy was now holding a white folder and several loose papers. Michael assumed they were from the principal, probably the code of conduct and information on the schedule and things like that. 

“I’m sure if I missed anything, Michael can tell you as you enjoy your first week here. Right, Michael?”

Michael, who had tuned out again momentarily, jolted back to awareness. 

“What? Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, glancing at Jeremy. “You’ve got me here as your guide, dude, it’ll be fine.” He smiled and did an awkward set of finger guns at Jeremy. 

After a beat of blankness, during which Michael’s soul died about five times and he berated himself several more, Jeremy smiled back and lifted his hands into his own weak finger guns. 

Jeremy’s smile was soft and nervous, like the boy himself, and Michael knew immediatly that he wanted to make that smile come back as often as he could. 

“Terrific!” Principal Vizzini exclaimed, standing up. “So glad to see that you’re already getting along.” 

The two boys followed his lead, standing up as well. They followed him to the door, which he pulled open with a flourish. 

“I won’t keep the two of you any longer,” he said. “Michael can show you where your locker is,” he added, gesturing to the papers in Jeremy’s hand with his own free hand. “And then you two can get on with you day.”

Jeremy stood still, so Michael figured he should respond.

“Sounds perfect. See you around, Principal Vizzini,” he said, giving a lame wave as he walked out the door. He walked through and the reception area and opened the door, holding it open for Jeremy to follow him. 

Once they were out in the hall, he was suddenly unsure of what to do. Jeremy, in all his adorable glory, looked nervous and uncomfortable. It would take some time, but he really hoped that he could get Jeremy to open up a little, nervous as he was. 

Michael had gathered pretty quickly that Jeremy wouldn’t be the one initiating conversation quite yet, so he took a deep breath and pasted on what he hoped was a welcoming grin. That was a good start, right?

“So,” Michael said, gesturing awkwardly at the papers tucked into the crook of Jeremy’s elbow “Lets go find that locker, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait guys!! my brain has been a bit uncooperative lately, but i really appreciate all the support you guys have been giving this story. ill keep working steadily on thi as long as you guys wanna read it! in the meantime, you could check out this [bmc as vines video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r4L9S3APk88&t=2s) that i made, if you're in the mood to laugh.
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!!! feel free to drop a comment, i love to hear from you guys! see you next time, hopefully with less of a wait whoOPS
> 
> (p.s. anyone catch the musical reference in this chapter?)


	4. the one with the awkward silences

“So...” 

Michael let the syllable drag on, far longer than it would have if he’d actually had something to say next. It trickled away and dissipated into the surrounding atmosphere, which was already overcrowded with awkwardness. 

After Michael had asked about Jeremy’s locker number, Jeremy had fumbled through the papers he was holding to find the one with his locker location on it. He’d dropped several as he searched, including the one he wanted, and Michael had stood uncomfortably by while Jeremy scrambled to pick up the few papers, apologizing all the while. He stuffed the papers in his bag as quickly as he could, obviously embarrassed. His face had gone entirely pink, and any modicum of comfort Michael thought he might’ve achieved with him disappeared. By the time he found the right paper, Jeremy had refused to make eye contact again, shoving the crinkled sheet in Michael’s general direction without glancing up from the floor. 

Michael had glanced at the paper and been pleasantly surprised to find that Jeremy’s locker was in the same hall as his own, just down at the other end. He’d turned and headed in that direction only to turn around and see that Jeremy, who hadn’t followed him, was standing and fidgeting with the edge of his sleeves. 

“Uh...hey? You coming?” Michael had asked. 

Jeremy had blinked, face still pink. “Oh uh, y-yeah. Yes. Right.”

He’d forced himself to stop messing with his sleeves, instead clutching the straps of his backpack. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he’d trailed behind Michael down the hall. Michael had tried to make small talk, but it was fruitless; he wasn’t any good at it, and Jeremy obviously wasn’t either. 

Now, they stood by the row of lockers, Jeremy bent over the lock and Michael standing awkwardly to the side, waiting. Jeremy had been trying to get the lock open for several minutes and Michael could hear his frustration: little sighs and mumbled curses under his breath. 

Michael fought the urge to put his headphones on like he usually would in an awkward situation only because he didn’t want to come off as rude. Jeremy was obviously nervous, and Michael isn’t wanna make it worse. Besides, he needed to fix up his less than stellar first impression if he wanted to become friends with Jeremy. 

It had been a long time since there’s been any new boys at the school who didn’t already know him as Michael, the loser/stoner/nerd/loner - take your pick, really, of all the words that kids liked to call him. This was his one chance to maybe catch someone before they learned all the school rules, one of which was that talking to him was social suicide. That’s why he was so interested in Jeremy, because it was a chance for a clean slate. 

His looks were just an added incentive. 

Michael almost rolled his eyes at his own internal addition. He needed to get himself in check; just because there wasn’t any guys in Middleborough who were willing to talk to Michael, or who were as uniquely adorable as Jeremy, didn’t mean he had to go all crazy crush over him. Michael had to get to be his friend first - something he was not notoriously successful at doing - and besides, he didn’t even know if the kid was gay. 

He probably wasn’t, Michael reasoned, watching Jeremy struggle with the lock. 

_But if he was..._

The nagging voice in his mind refused to give up the notion, and this time, Michael really did roll his eyes at his own mental antics.

Suddenly, Jeremy slammed his first against the locker and yelled “fuck!”, snapping Michael back to reality. 

Jeremy immediately looked sheepish, whipping to look at Michael. 

“Sorry, I just - this stupid thing wont open, and I - I couldn’t...make it open,” he rambled, face growing pink. “Sorry,” he finished, repeating himself. Jeremy looked a little like he wanted to melt into the ground. 

Michael knew he had to do something to fix this, so he made a quick choice. 

“Luckily for you,” he said, pulling his hands from his pockets, “I’m an expert at using these crappy locks. Lemme get in there,” he grinned, rubbing his hands together. He walked towards Jeremy and the locker, cracking his knuckles in an attempt at humor. 

Jeremy didn’t laugh, just stood there looking uncomfortable. Michael wasn’t sure if that was due to him or not, but he decided it was kinda to late to back out. Jeremy really _did_ need help with the lock, and Michael could really _probably_ help him. 

He stopped right in front of the locker, his shoulder dangerously close to touching Jeremy’s. Jeremy seemed to notice, though and he took a step back. He was fiddling with his sleeves again, looking at the ground. 

“Right, so,” Michael mumbled, breaking the silence. He waited for Jeremy to catch the hint, then awkwardly cleared his throat and added, “The combination?”

Jeremy looked up at him with wide eyes. “What? Oh - oh, yeah, sure. Okay, it’s, um,” he paused, hesitant. “You’re not gonna like, break into my locker or anything, are you?”

Michael couldn’t help himself; he laughed. Jeremy looked a little mortified, so Michael quickly tried to shut himself up. 

“Dude, no,” he said, swallowing down another guffaw. “I swear I won’t steal your shit. So...?”

Jeremy still seemed hesitant, but eventually he sighed and looked at a small piece of paper that he pulled from his pocket. “Alright then, it’s, um, eleven, twenty three, nineteen.”

Michael started spinning the lock, matching up each number exactly with the little arrow. He really hoped he didn’t screw this up, because then he’d really look like an asshole. He could feel Jeremy’s eyes on him as he clicked the last number into place, making sure the tick mark was lined up just so. With a silent plea to the universe, Michael straightened up and tried to pull the locker open. 

Thankfully, it opened. Michael said a quick mental thank you to whoever was out there listening, then turned to Jeremy. 

“Ta-da!” He grinned, flinging out one hand dramatically in a gesture towards the open locker door. “Told ya I could get it.” Jeremy inched towards him, peering at the newly open locker. He was just about to say something when Michael added, “That’ll be twenty bucks.”

“Oh, um.” Jeremy’s shoulders raised slightly and he swallowed hard. 

“I’m kidding,” Michael jumped in, not wanting to make Jeremy flustered again. “Totally kidding,” he continued. “One hundred percent free of charge. That’s the Michael Mell difference!” he finished weakly, wishing he could stop acting like such a dork for even one minute. 

Jeremy gave a half hearted laugh. “Thanks,” he said, flashing Michael that same grin he’d seen in the principal’s office. 

Melting slightly, Michael stepped out of Jeremy’s way so he could get into his locker. 

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, leaning against the lockers. He waited for Jeremy to unpack, watching as he took a few binders out of his bag and stuffed them into the locker. A gym bag followed, then a couple folders and a pack of pencils. Apparently satisfied, Jeremy closed the locker again and shifted his backpack back up onto his shoulders. 

By this point, the hall was beginning to fill up, and Michael still had to go to his locker. It was right down the hall, and it looked like - luckily - none of the popular crowd had gathered yet. 

“Come on,” he said, turning his back on Jeremy. “I just gotta stop at my locker, and then we can head to class.” He started to weave through the crowds, trusting that Jeremy would follow him. He hoped that he would, in any case. It would be really awkward if Jeremy just stood there, plus Michael would feel bad—

“—class?” 

Michael stopped in front of his locker and turned towards Jeremy. He’d only caught the last word of the sentence, so he cocked a brow and said, “What?” 

“I _said_ , ‘What’s our first class?’” Jeremy huffed, his discomfort manifesting as a twinge of annoyance in his tone. 

Michael’s hands, which had been working at the lock on his locker, stilled. Something about that tone felt familiar - something in the annoyed “I _said_ —“ seemed like he’d heard it before. He blinked thinking, then decided he’d answer Jeremy’s question first.

“Graphic design,” Michael answered, popping open the locker. “It’ll be easy, don’t even sweat it,” he continued. He slung his bag off his shoulder and unzipped it, grabbing a folder from his locker and stuffing it inside. He zipped it back up and pulled it on, then jammed his locker shut. 

Jeremy was standing next to the row of lockers, holding the straps of his backpack. Michael knew it had probably just been a random feeling of deja vu, but he couldn’t help but ask.

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere? Like, did you used to go here or something? You just seem kinda familiar,” Michael asked, stuffing his hands back into his hoodie pocket. He wasn’t even sure why he was asking, but now that he thought about it, Jeremy had felt kinda familiar since the principal first introduced them. 

Jeremy’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch and his cheeks flushed again. “N-no,” he stammered. “I don’t think so? I mean, I know I didn’t ever go here, I’m sure we don’t know each other. Definitely you’ve never seen me before - or I mean, I’ve never seen you — uh. Yeah,” he finished awkwardly, looking anywhere but Michael. 

Michel blinked at him, not exactly sure how to respond. After a moment, he decided that Jeremy was telling the truth about not having gone to school there - it didn’t seem all that out of character for him just to be nervous. Still, Michael couldn’t shake the feeling they’d met before. It was probably just one of those weird passing feelings though, so he tried to ignore it. 

“Oh, alright. Just felt like maybe I’d seen you before.” Jeremy looked uncomfortable, so Michael continued. “Anyways, ready to go to class?”

There was still fifteen minutes until class started, but every second they stood in the hall was another second that one of the popular kids could show up and totally ruin any chance Michael had at getting Jeremy to like him. Besides, he could point out some of the important places on the way and give Jeremy the run down on their schedule once they got there. 

“Yeah, sure,” Jeremy answered quickly, relieved at the change of subject. 

“Great - this way, my man,” Michael said, turning around. He led Jeremy down the now crowded hall, pointing out the bathroom (“This one always smells like weed, so it’s usually empty - unless people actually are smoking in there, obviously - so y’know, just something to consider”) and the water fountain (“It’s the best one, dude, don’t even bother with the one by the cafeteria. Just book it over here”) as they walked. 

It didn’t take long for them to get to class, and Michael was relieved that they managed to get there without running into anyone. He opened the door to the graphic design room and was immediately greeted by a rush of cool, air conditioned air. Since the class was largely digital, they had class in the computer lab, which was always cold. Michael stepped through the doorway, glad he was wearing his hoodie.

He walked over to his usual chair - the one on the right, facing the window - and plopped down. Jeremy trailed behind him uncertainly, and Michael pulled out the chair next to him and patted it. 

“Have a seat, dude,” he said, so Jeremy did.

They sat in semi awkward silence for a moment as Michael tried to decide what to do. Usually, he’d pop his headphone and and totally ignore the world for the class period - he was several days ahead on the project they were working on, and the teacher was really chill. But with Jeremy there, he figured he should probably, y’know, not do that. 

What he _should_ do, though, was a bit more of a mystery to him.

After making a big show of logging onto the computer to avoid the growing social void, Michael paused. He knew he’d agreed to this, but he really had no idea what he should be doing. He wasn’t exactly Mister Popularity, and he had little to no idea how his school day should function if he wasn’t by himself. Steeling himself for what would probably be an incredibly stilted and uncomfortable day, Michael turned to Jeremy. 

He was staring out the window, eyes blank. Michael noticed that he was biting his lower lip - probably just a nervous tick, but Michael definitely noticed. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly and Jeremy blinked, pulled back to reality. 

“Hm?”

“I was just wondering what you wanted to do today?” Michael asked. “I mean, obviously you have to come to my classes with me, but do you want me to just kinda let you watch, or show you what we’ve done already, or...?” Michael let the question hang, unsure exactly what answer he was expecting to get to such a weird and unspecific question.

“Oh, uh,” Jeremy said, “I guess whatever is fine. I can just watch, I don’t wanna be annoying. I’m sure you don’t wanna be stuck with the new kid.” He looked back out the window, swallowing thickly.

Michael felt a flash of shame at how accurately Jeremy was able to articulate what Michael had been thinking earlier that morning. He’d been unhappy about this new punishment, but that was before he’d seen - met, whatever, he corrected his brain - Jeremy. And even if he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, he wanted to make this as least suckish as he could for Jeremy. 

Michael realized he’d paused for slightly too long, and he scrambled for an answer. 

“No! No, it’s not like that,” he reassured Jeremy. “I was just asking so that this week could be like, as not shitty as possible. I’m—“ he paused, considering his words. Jeremy’s eyes flicked over towards him, so he blurted, “really happy that I get to show you around!”

Much to his surprise, Michael realized it was actually true. He wasn’t too stoked about dealing with his lack of social skills, but he was really excited to get to know Jeremy, and to get the chance to have a friend for the first time in....well, it had been a while. Plus, with a face like that, Michael wouldn’t mind being more than friends either. 

Unfortunately, Jeremy rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. You don’t have to lie to me, I mean - I wouldn’t wanna hang with me either, so don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, slumping over so his chin was resting on his fist. 

Michael didn’t know what had prompted this kind of response, but he didn’t like it. 

“Dude, I’m serious.” Jeremy didn’t seem impressed, so Michael took a breath and dug a little deeper. “Like, I’m sure you’ve noticed there aren’t exactly crowds of people trying to talk to me. I know we’re stuck together for now, but maybe it doesn’t have to, y’know, suck.” 

Jeremy turned his head, still leaning into his fist. He seemed to be appraising Michael, and after a few moments of silence, he sighed. 

“Fine. Not like I have friends here, anyways,” he mumbled, sitting up straight. There seemed to be a new air about him though, like maybe Michael had actually gotten through to him, at least a little. 

“So, what’s this,” Jeremy gestures to the classroom, “all about? What are we doing today?” 

He looked at Michael expectantly, one brow raised. 

“Well...”

Michael had been hoping for Jeremy to come around a little, but he realized now that he actually didn’t know what they should actually do this period at all. He figured he could show Jeremy some of his past projects, or they could mess around with the programs, but he didn’t wanna come across as conceited or like he didn’t know what he was doing. He decided that ye former was a safer route, and then he could ask Jeremy what he wanted to do. 

“I’m already done with it, but everyone is still working on this project,” Michael explained. He navigated all the files on the desktop to find his project, continuing as it loaded. “We has to redesign a well known snack brand, like make a new logo and stuff.” He noticed that Jeremy had moved a little closer, and whether he was genuinely interested or not, Michael couldn’t tell, but it was better than the weird silence they’d had earlier. 

For his project, he’d revamped the Mountain Dew logo, plus two variants of can designs - red and green. He’d actually really liked it, so he’d done more than the project had asked for. He rambled on a little bit about the thought process, showing Jeremy some of the initial sketches and things. He seemed interested enough, and Michael was grateful. 

After about half the class was over, they’d looked at pretty much all of Michael’s resources for the project. He was just about to open up an earlier project - creating a fake magazine cover - when he had a different idea. 

“If you wanted, we could like, make another one together? Or you could watch me design another can or something,” Michael offered. “I mean, we’re gonna be in this class together for a few days, and I don’t have that many more projects to show you,” he added quickly. 

Jeremy mulled it over, then shrugged. 

“Sure, whatever you want.”

Michael felt relieved, since a new design would mean there wouldn’t be any more awkward gaps where he didn’t know what to do - at least, not in this class.

“Cool. So we’ll just start in Photoshop...”

Michael opened up all the programs they’d need and walked Jeremy through the steps he’d taken to make the first two cans, and they spent the rest of the period working on the new one. Jeremy thought they could make the blue one next, so they worked from there. 

The bell rang before they knew it, so Michael logged off and stood up, swinging his bag off the chair. Jeremy followed his lead, and they made their way down the crowded hall towards Michael’s English class. There wouldn’t be any room to decide what they should be doing this period - his English teacher was crazy. They’d probably just end up listening to her interrogate kids on the book they were reading and then lecture about some obscure detail. 

Honestly? Michael was okay with that. He could use a break from trying to socialize. 

He pulled over a spare chair next to desk for Jeremy to sit down and slid into his own chair just as the bell rang. As suspected, his teacher immediately went in on some poor, half asleep kid about one of the minor characters in the book. 

As she sweet into a lecture on the significance of shoe type in character analysis, Michael let his eyes drift over to Jeremy. He was, for his part, paying attention to what she was saying, watching her as gestured with the book to annunciate her point. 

Michael appreciated that Jeremy was trying, because he couldn’t imagine how much it must suck to transfer schools mid senior year. As he looked away from Jeremy, Michael was secretly a little glad that he’d had to come to Middleborough, even if it did mean that Michael had to think about everything he did, and had to worry about looking nicer, and needed to be on his best behavior. He had a feeling it would be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending isnt exactly what i wanted, but i just needed to geth them starting classes. i promise things will start to pick up soon! i have quite a few ideas about where i want this to go, so hold on!
> 
> as always, please lemme know what you thought. comments make my heart go !!!!!


	5. lunch? id rather not

“Don’t forget, tomorrow we have a quiz on the amendments to the Constitution! Make sure to study chapters 16 and 17—“

Michael rolled his eyes. Their teacher might as well have been speaking to an empty room, since half the class was already gone; the other half had tuned out immediately when the bell had interrupted his spiel about the importance of the 14th amendment. Michael wasn’t saying that it _wasn't_ important, but as soon as that droning beep came through the speakers, nothing could keep his attention grounded. Bell on, brain off. 

“Michael?”

Well, maybe a little _too_ off.

Michael noticed that Jeremy was standing in front of him, hands in his pockets. He’d relaxed a little bit throughout the day - study hall had been awkward at first, but once Michael put on his headphones and Jeremy realized he didn’t need to socialize, they’d both taken advantage of the chance to relax. Pre-calc had been pretty simple, too (though it wasn’t like Jeremy had to worry about tomorrow’s test, so that helped). And the Constitution was something every American kid had learned about since they could read, so history had been a breeze too. 

“Uh, Michael?” Jeremy repeated, and Michael blinked back to the present. 

“Hm?” he intoned, absentmindedly shoving the notes they’d been doing into his bag. 

The look Jeremy gave him made it clear that he’d already asked Michael something, but he gave a small, exasperated sigh and repeated himself. 

“Where are we going now?”

“Oh,” Michael said. “My locker, and yours if you want.”  He zipped his bag up and slung it over his shoulder. He turned towards the door, knowing Jeremy would follow. He took a few strides, heard another sigh, and then Jeremy appeared next to him in the hall. 

They weaved through the crowds in silence. Michael noticed absentmindedly that Jeremy’s stride matched his own; they walked in sync through the hall until they got to Michael’s locker. It was a nice kind of different to have someone to walk with for a change. 

Michael twisted open his lock and was jamming his binder back into his locker when Jeremy asked him again where they were going next.

“Just because, yknow, it would be kinda nice to know what I actually _need_ next _,”_ he’d added sarcastically. Michael had felt it again then, that weird sense of deja vu that he’d felt earlier when Jeremy had been speaking. He ignored the thought almost as soon as it appeared, since there were bigger things to deal with.

“Uh,” Michael said, putting his lock back on his locker. He turned around to face Jeremy, pausing for a moment. “I have lunch now.”

Jeremy looked relieved. 

“Oh, cool. I was starting to wonder if you were one of those weird kids who didn’t take a lunch,” he added, grinning. “I don’t need to stop at my locker, let’s go.”

Jeremy motioned for Michael to lead the way, and after a brief pause, Michael did. They walked down the hall towards the cafeteria, dipping between the clumps of people hovering around the lockers. Michael hadn’t exactly been looking forward to this part of the day - he never did. Lunch, at best, meant sitting quietly alone with his headphones on; at worst, it meant being the source of that day’s entertainment for the student body courtesy of some of the popular kids.

Michael really hoped this would be one of the days that he would just be left alone. So far, he hadn’t done anything that he thought would scare Jeremy off, and Michael wanted to keep it that way. It’s not often that he got the chance to introduce himself to a blank slate, someone who might be willing to talk to him and didn’t know any better about the possible social consequences.

The doors to the cafeteria were already open, sound spilling out like the crash of an ocean wave. Michael hadn’t grabbed anything to eat in his rush to get to school, so he pulled out his wallet to grab something from the vending machine. 

“I’m gonna get some chips, you need to buy anything?” He didn’t know if Jeremy was planning on buying a lunch - if they could even call the stuff they served food - or if he’d brought food. 

Jeremy blinked, then said, “Oh, no, I brought some stuff. I’ll just...go sit down?” He said it more like a question then a statement, and Michael suddenly noticed the signs of nervousness in Jeremy’s posture. He could understand that - this was all new to Jeremy. Michael hated lunch too, and he’d been doing this here for years.

“You can just wait if you want,” Michael offered. “I’ll just take a sec, then I can show you where I usually sit.” It felt weird to invite someone else to sit with him. He’d sat alone, or ended up at a table with a handful of other awkward social misfits who pretended all the others weren’t there, since middle school. He didn’t know how he felt about giving up this solidarity, but he was pretty sure he’d like to sit with Jeremy. He had a quick realization then, and started backpedaling.

“I mean, you don’t have to sit with me,” Michael clarified. “I just meant you can if you want, but if you wanna sit somewhere else, that’s fine too.” He knew Jeremy hadn’t made any other friends (were he and Michael friends now?) that day, so he didn’t know where else Jeremy could possibly sit, but he didn’t wanna sound deperate, or presumptuous, or like he just really wanted to spend more time with Jeremy and keep him from talking to anyone who might spread rumors about Michael to him. 

Jeremy seemed caught off guard. 

“Oh, yeah, no, I’ll sit with you. Thanks,” he added as an afterthought. He shot Michael a grateful grin, an Michael found himself grinning back, enjoying the way it felt not to be alone. 

“Nice,” he replied, shooting Jeremy a quick set of finger guns. He mentally banged his head against the wall - could he make it _more_ clear that he didn’t have friends, or do social interaction?

It didn’t seem to bother Jeremy though, as a small smile stayed on his face. 

Michael made his way over to the vending machine and bought a bag of chips, then decided he was thirsty and bought a bottle of Mountain Dew, too. He grabbed his snacks and the two quarters of change that dropped from the machine, turning back to Jeremy. 

“This way,” he said, jutting his chin vaguely towards the corner of the cafeteria. 

Jeremy followed him as they walked, eyes flitting around to take in the student body as they passed various tables. He still seemed nervous, like he was about to run for the door at any moment. Michael wondered whether or not Jeremy had been like this at his old school, too. A part of him appreciated the idea that Jeremy could understand the lunchtime hell phenomenon, that maybe he’d dreaded it at whatever school he used to go to, because then at least Michael wasn’t alone. 

Michael blinked back to the present, realizing they were near his table. It was along the far wall, in the corner by the windows. 

“Ta-daa,” Michael mumbled lamely, pulling out the chair he usually sat at and plopping down in it. He took off his backpack and put it in the seat next to him. Jeremy followed his lead, leaving one seat empty between them and setting his bag on the other side. 

Michael wasn’t really sure what the procedure was for sitting with someone at lunch, because he hadn’t done it intentionally in several years. He also really didn’t wanna say anything too dorky, because hey - cute new kid, as his mind had been helpfully reminding him all day. His usual method of dealing with lunch - putting on his headphones and ignoring everything around him - seemed both rude and perhaps the worst way to get closer to Jeremy, so he forced his hands to fidget with his bag of chips instead of reaching for the headphones around his neck. He wasn’t really sure what to say - luckily for him, Jeremy chose that moment to speak. 

“So...not popular, huh?”

Michael’s heart jumped in his chest, his face warming.

“Uh, what?” he said, laughing awkwardly. 

“Oh, shit, I was just making a joke. Just because we’re like, in the corner of the room. By ourselves.” Jeremy looked physically pained as he tried to explain himself, his slender fingers tapping out a pulsing rhythm against the table. “It’s fine, though,” he added quickly, probably sensing the way Michael had died a little bit at the question. “I like being out of the way. I didn’t sit with people at lunch at my old school either.” 

Jeremy’s eyes widened slightly and he gave a nervous laugh, rushing to clarify. “I mean!—Yeah, I could’ve sat with people, definitely, I just didn’t have a normal table or like, a lunch with my, uh, friends, or...or anything like that. Yeah.” His voice trailed off lamely and he flushed pink, his eyes pointedly avoiding Michael’s.

Michael didn’t know exactly what to make of that particular string of commentary, but he was relieved that at least Jeremy didn’t think he was a loser. If anything, it kinda seemed like he understood how Michael functioned in the world of high school. 

“Yeah, totally,” Michael answered, grinning. He hoped his voice didn’t betray his questions, or he panic Jeremy’s mutual observation of his lac of popularity had surprised him. “I get that, it’s basically like my own little land over here. It’s nice to be alone, yknow?” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Oh, and you’re here now too, which is…cool?” 

It came out more like a question than a statement, but Jeremy seemed okay with that. Michael was more than happy to leave the subject of popularity; he didn’t care anymore that he wasn’t popular, but he knew that other people did, and he was still praying to avoid any encounters with the popular crowd. 

The conversation drifted towards safer, more boring topics after that - what Jeremy’s old school was like, what he thinks thought of the teachers he’d met here so far, whether or not he liked the new Marvel movie. 

Michael thought it was going pretty well, all things considered. He wasn’t especially practiced at small talk, but talking to Jeremy was smooth and natural, like they’d known each other for ages. When Michael threw out a vine reference (which he immediately regretted), he was pleasantly surprised that Jeremy not only got it, but thought it was funny, meaning Michael was treated to another one of Jeremy’s adorable smiles. 

They were in the middle of a discussion about the proper way to color code school subjects (“Listen, Jeremy, I know we only met this morning, but if you’re trying to tell me that math isn’t red, you’re wrong!”) when Michael’s bad luck caught up to him. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t know the gay nerd table was accepting applications! Who’s your boyfriend, Mell?” 

Michael felt a part of his soul shrivel up and die. Of  _course_ he should’ve known he wouldn’t be lucky enough to get through the day with Jeremy without getting screwed over by the popular kids. Of  _course_ Rich decided to harass him during lunch today.

Michael would usually just ignore his taunting, but he could see Jeremy’s face had turned red and he looked ready to bolt. Michael knew he had to do something. 

“Yeah, actually, we are accepting new members - I’m assuming that’s why you’re here?” Michael tried to make his voice more confident than he felt, copying Rich’s smug tone. He didn’t feel confident at all, though; he rarely ever stood up to any of them, preferring to just turn up his music and flip the occasional bird. This was something new for him. 

It was new for Rich, too, who was caught off guard. When it sunk in that Michael actually  _had_ said something back, and that it had been an attempt to return Rich’s contempt, Rich’s eyes narrowed. 

For a sweet, brief moment, Michael thought he might’ve thrown Rich off his rhythm enough that he would just leave — but no. Rich’s hand shot out like a flash and Michael flinched, half expected to be hit. He wasn’t the target, though, and Michael watched in what felt like slow motion as Rich flung Michael’s mostly full bottle of Mountain Dew off the table.

This wouldn’t have been retaliation to Rich’s usual standards had it not been for the fact that the bottle was open. 

With a flick of his wrist, Rich swung the bottle in a tiny half circle and sent its contents flying out. Michael saw Jeremy’s eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, right before half of the green liquid landed directly in his lap. The other half hit Michael, soaking into his hoodie and rolling down to pool at the bottom of the pocket, where it began to sink into his jeans. 

“Oops,” Rich said, grinning. 

There was laughter from the table across the room where Rich’s friends sat: Chloe, Jake, Brooke, Madeline, Jenna. There was no point trying to hide, because the other students in the cafeteria were starting to look for what the High Class of Middleborough was laughing at, and Jenna Rolan already had her phone out to document the event. Anyone who wasn’t already realizing what had happened and joining in on the laughter would know by the end of the day.

“You’re a fucking ass, Rich, you know that?” Michael spat, shoving his chair away from the table and standing up. He yanked his backpack off the chair next to him angrily and swung it over his shoulder as Rich laughed. He stood defiantly with his middle finger up, waiting for Rich to walk away. He tried to look as impressive as he could with Mountain Dew soaking into his clothes, knowing it was better to stand his ground than to flee. 

When Rich got back to his table, Michael lowered his hand and let out a shaky breath. He could make his escape now and at least feel like he’d gotten a minor victory in this whole humiliating affair. 

Michael suddenly remembered that Jeremy had been a part of this, too, and quickly looked at him. 

He had jumped out of his seat at some point during the affair, and he was breathing heavily as he stared down at his soaked shirt and jeans.

Shit. 

“Hey, man,” Michael said, trying to get his attention. “Fuck, I’m sorry this happened, just - just grab your bag, okay? Let’s get out of here.”

When Jeremy finally looked up at Michael, his eyes were wild. It took a moment for Michael’s words to sink in, but when they did, he nodded and snatched up his bag. He walked quickly through the cafeteria, eyes staring blankly at the wall as he made a beeline for the exit. Michael followed, glaring at anyone who was still snickering as they walked by. 

They walked out of the door and into the hall in silence, the thrum of the cafeteria fading as they moved away from it. Michael felt gross - not just because he was covered in soda, but also because he’d totally dragged Jeremy into this, and now he was suffering from Michael’s nonexistent social status too. Not to mention the fact that Jeremy definitely wouldn’t want anything to do with Michael outside of the minimum class responsibilities anymore, and any chance Michael had of being friends (or anything else) with this boy was probably all but gone. 

Drifting away from his thoughts and back to reality, Michael realized that Jeremy had stopped walking. He turned around to see what was going on. 

Jeremy was just standing in the middle of the hall, shoulders tensed, breathing in and out. He was scratching his left arm with his right hand - just one small spot on his wrist, like there was a bug under his skin he was trying to get out. His wet shirt, now an unnatural greenish hue where it had previously been white, clung to his stomach. There were several dark patches on his jeans from where the pop had landed, and all around the front of the waistband where his wet shirt had settled. 

Michael instantly felt way more guilty than he’d already been feeling. This was one hell of a first day for Jeremy to have; Michael was so used to things like this that they hardly effected him to that degree anymore. He was still upset, sure, but most of the time he just accepted it. For Jeremy, though, this would be new. Michael could understand the panic he felt coming off of Jeremy in waves. 

He took a tentative step towards him. 

“Jeremy?” 

Jeremy’s breathing stopped and he scrunched his eyes closed harder. After a moment, he opened them and looked at Michael, waiting.

Michael figured that was gonna be all the conversation he was gonna get at the moment, so he continued. “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom. We can try to wash some of this shit off,” he said, tugging at the bottom of his hoodie for emphasis. “I know it’s not great but I mean - at least the day is almost over, right?”

Jeremy blinked slowly. “Yeah.” His voice came out softly, like it had barely escaped his body. It was strangled and nervous, and Michael wished he could do something more to help.

Instead he showed Jeremy to the nearest bathroom and handed him crappy brown paper towels in silence, blotting at his hoodie as Jeremy rubbed at the stain on his own shirt. 

Michael sighed as threw away a chunk of sticky paper towels. Trying to get the soda out of the fabric of his hoodie was useless; all he was doing was making a bigger wet mark on the front of it. He decided just to take his hoodie off - it was usually a comfort to him, but it was sticky and damp and he didn’t want to touch it anymore. He pulled it over his head and stuffed it into his bag. 

Jeremy had gone into one of the stall’s at some point while Michael had been thinking about his hoodie - Michael hoped he was alright. He’d seemed really shaken up, and while Michael could ditch his hoodie, it wasn’t like Jeremy could just walk around shirtless to avoid wearing  _his_  pop covered clothes. 

Well, alright. Michael really didn’t think that would be the worst thing that could happen, but it would probably break dress code. 

His train of thought was broken by Jeremy emerging from the stall. Michael did a double take - Jeremy had definitely not been wearing these clothes earlier. There wasn’t evidence of the soda anywhere, and the stripes on this shirt were yellow and blue, not blue, red, and white. Even his jeans were free of wet Mountain Dew marks. 

Jeremy seemed to notice Michael’s confused look, his face turning a light pink. 

“I just - I had an extra change of clothes, just in case? In case like, I had gym class and I didn’t know about it...?” He trailed off uncertainly, tugging at the hem of his clean shirt.

“Oh, okay.” Michael wasn’t entirely convicted that that was true, but the whole situation was so uncomfortable that he let it go. “It’s a good thing you hand them, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy seemed relieved that Michael hadn’t pressed any further, some of the tenseness in his shoulder dissipating. He seemed to have calmed down significantly since he’d gotten away from the crowd and out of his sticky clothes. 

There was an awkward pause, then Jeremy cleared his throat and asked, “So....what the fuck was all that?” 

Michael blanched slightly. He’d been avoiding thinking about this moment, where he’d have to articulate the specifics of his social standing and obliterate any progress he’d made on getting Jeremy to like him. He took a deep breath and launched into what he knew was going to be a painfully awkward description. 

“Yeah, so. I’m really sorry, I guess maybe I should’ve warned you that you got yourself stuck with Middleborough’s resident social pariah.” Michael had meant for it to come out as a joke, but it sounded to bitter, even to his own ears. He sighed, then went on. “The oh-so-charming asshole who dumped soda on us was Rich, who - if you couldn’t guess - is a part of the bullshit ‘popular kid’ level of the high school food chain.” Michael did air quotes around popular kids, rolling his eyes. Most people wanted to be popular or wanted to date popular people - Michael just wished they would leave him alone. 

“His past times are pretty exclusively limited to fucking with me whenever he can, shouting homophobic slurs in the halls, and talking about how fucked up he got at whatever party he went to last weekend,” Michael explained, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. He felt his face warm slightly when he realized he’d essentially brought up the fact that Rich had said he was gay, and the comment about Jeremy being Michael’s boyfriend, but it wasn’t like he thought that. Rich just liked to be an ass about the fact that Michael was gay - it wasn't like Jeremy hadn’t probably seen the pride patch on Michael’s hoodie. Michael was uncomfortable and angry, yeah, but not ashamed. 

Michael expected Jeremy’s face to be pitying, or desperate for an escape route, but it was mostly blank. There was a feeling of understanding in his tone when he said, “That really sucks, man.” 

“Yeah. I guess. It’s whatever,” Michael mumbled, wishing he was still wearing his hoodie so that he could hide his hands in the front pocket. 

“And Rich - his name is Rich, right? - is a total ass for saying shit like that. Popular kids are always jerks, and you seem cooler than him anyways,” Jeremy added. “I mean - okay, I only met you today, but you’re easy to get along with, and your hoodie is dope. All those patches? It’s fucking cool to be yourself out in the open like that.” Jeremy’s face was a slightly darker shade of pink, and Michael couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking about the pride patch. 

Even though Jeremy had been rambling awkwardly, Michael still appreciated he sentiment. It probably still came from a place of pity, but Jeremy had seemed genuine enough while he was talking, so Michael decided to take it. It also meant that maybe, Michael hadn’t lost his chance with Jeremy, which was definitely not something Michael was ready to unpack while standing in the school bathroom. 

“Oh, uh...thanks?” Michael mentally smacked himself for sounding so dumb. He didn’t know what else to say - neither did Jeremy, apparently, because they let the silence stretch on for several uncomfortable minutes before the bell signaled the end of the period. 

“Alright, I’ve got...forensics now, so...if we wanna...” Michael gestured towards the bathroom door and Jeremy nodded, both of them suddenly incapable of social interaction of any kind. Michael took Jeremy’s quietness as a signal that it was okay to put his headphones on, and they walked in sync through the crowded halls to the forensics room. 

They were able to make it the rest of the day without incident, spending the second study of the day much like the first and breezing through a simple worksheet in physics. 

They walked through the halls towards their lockers, both trying to ignore the laughter that followed them or the whispers of “Did you see the photo?” and “They were the Mountain Dew ones” that drifted out from the crowds of students. Michael swallowed down his guilt about the whole affair and stopped at Jeremy’s locker with him while he put the ruff he didn’t need away. 

“So, um. See you tomorrow, I guess?” Jeremy said, replacing the lock on his locker and turning to Michael with his hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah. Cool,” Michael flashed Jeremy a quick “okay” symbol and a weak grin before popping on his headphones and awkwardly walking away, turning around to throw one more lame wave over his shoulder at Jeremy as he went.

The air was cool on Michael’s bare arms as he unlocked his P.T Cruiser and climbed in. He tossed his bag in the passenger seat and set up his music, trying not to think to much about the rollercoaster of events that had taken place that day. He was exhausted just haphazardly recalling everything that had happened - was it really only that morning that he’d woken up late? 

He turned up his speakers to drown out the several embarrassing memories he was now involuntarily thinking of. Even with all the bad - which he was sure his mind would find plenty of time to dwell on - he wasn’t considering the day a total loss. 

The new kid was not only super cute, but also pretty cool, and he didn’t hate Michael for everything that had happened in lunch. He’d been more mad at Rich than at the fact that he’d gotten stuck with the lowest of the low on Middleborough’s social pyramid as his school guide, which was a pleasant surprise. And he may or may not have said that he thought it was cool that Michael was out and had a pride patch, although that last part was a admittedly a bit of wishful thinking on Michael’s part. 

Overall, Michael liked Jeremy. He felt comfortable around him, or at least as comfortable as he felt around anyone, as someone who was used to being alone. He was kinda awkward and nervous, but that wasn’t really a bad thing. Michael knew he wasn’t exactly a social expert himself, so it took some of the pressure off. 

So yeah, Michael thought as he cruised down down the road, bopping his head to the music. Even if it was still technically a punishment, hanging out with Jeremy definitely beat suspension, and Michael was _almost_ excited to go to school the next day and show Jeremy around some more. 

_Almost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo....sorry for the wait guys! ive just been really busy, and i started working on some other things in between bouts of motivation for this fic. this chapter was mostly more set up for the plot (which is why some of might feel a bit uninspired) but i anticipate stuff should start picking up next chapter! school is really busy but ill do my best to keep working on this :')
> 
> please lemme know what you think through comments and kudos, they make my day!! thanks for reading !!!


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